Fealty
by flecksofpoppy
Summary: Rufus and Rude discuss loyalty. Obviously Rufus Shinra has never read the sexual harassment policy, if there ever was one, put into place at Shinra Electric Power Company. Rude POV. R-ish. Inferred Rufus/Rude.


Yet another random fic prompt I asked for. This one was Rude/Rufus; however, I was given a prompt phrase that I didn't follow whatsoever. This pairing was so bizarre to me that I was happy to manage to write a fic at all, and I thought what came out was interesting, hence why I'm posting. Obviously Rufus Shinra has never read the sexual harassment policy, if there ever was one, put into place at Shinra Electric Power Company.

I'm going to say that this is set just before Advent Children.  


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**Fealty**

There was nothing embarrassing about illness. He had known that from the first day he saw Reno lying on a white bed wrapped in swathes of cotton and reddened bandages, right after the suicide mission into the Sector 7 plate. He wasn't sure that any of them were going to come out of that one alive, and he had wondered at some point if maybe someone knew that they weren't.

There was always something in the way that Reno approached assignments that didn't stem solely from bloodlust or mere acceptance, something in his voice that signaled the end of days. When he spoke about hits and plate drops and death, his tone was too ragged to be completely insincere, even though their actions were directed by outside sources. Premeditated: the charge that had to be proven for murderers to be sentenced to death.

Rude sometimes tried to remember, in his more reflective states of mind, if there was ever a time when the world hadn't appeared in quite that manner. As a Turk, often acceptance of the terms was part of the job, and acceptance wasn't even supposed to be an issue. They simply did as told, had faith in the empire that the exorbitant amount they were paid to do the dirty work equated to the fact that the kills they were sent on made sense.

After the plate drop, everything fell apart, and Reno wasn't there anymore. Rude was perfectly capable of functioning on his own; it was strange, though. He saw blond hair and a feminine voice and it confused his senses; sometimes he would look at himself in the dark, just his silhouette outlined in some twilight, when they were traveling, and he'd wonder who he was again. Without Reno or Tseng, slowly, the world began to piece apart, as if it was never truly patched together in a way that was intended to remain stitched.

He tried to keep his thoughts still. He was essentially a transformer that leaked enough energy to light the city of Midgar, but without someone to accept the spinning wheels of light and speed, there was nothing to keep the whirling circuits from burning the air.

Blond hair, half of a rookie, someone Reno asked him about later: _I think she likes you_ and he had told him differently. He was a man who was content to simply _be_; didn't like to think too much unless necessary.

The unexpected thrills came later, when he was cast in the shadow of a red ball of devastation with his partner, with their Director he hadn't expected to ever see back, with the new blond.

And then there was a different blond, sucking his life through a tube, burned and mangled in ways Rude had never expected to see someone remain alive. And he had seen a lot.

There had been something about Rufus Shinra that inspired only Turks. No one else looked to him after the ruination of Midgar; to everyone else, he was just a kid in a sheet, hunched over in a white shroud afflicted with the same earthly horrors as the rest of the Planet. And people had rejoiced at seeing him so in small moments of cruel indignation, and even Rude had felt embarrassment creep up on him.

Tseng kept his dignity about him, no matter what the state of the world, like a dark cloak, and Reno simply cast off derision like a bad taste in his mouth, unconcerned. There was something Rude didn't understand, but he sensed it, just as he sensed things that went unspoken. He lived in the unspoken moments, especially with Reno, who spoke about everything, even when unnecessary. But in this new world of destruction and other unsavory things, he often went about his day walking and seeing things in the air that didn't speak at all. In some strange way, he felt oddly at peace with the new world in ways that he knew the other Turks did not. Even Elena, who out of all of them, was the newest and therefore the most unjaded (in his mind anyway), and even she still clung to duty like it was her last breath on the planet. And maybe it was.

Rufus asked him once, what he saw was so calm in the world. The President was not panicked, never reacted to the jeers that reached his ears, and Rude didn't pity him. Men brought upon themselves what they would, and they all had enough blood on their hands in this time of atonement that no pithy insults could really be taken. Only the big things, only the things that made them reconsider their own places in the world. And Rude had never reconsidered being a Turk.

"You seem almost placid, Rude," Rufus had commented at some point, when he had stood next to him, unspeaking. Watching. Guarding. But mostly watching. "Why?"

He had been taken aback at the question, and his words seemed to float in the air at the time like sinking bubbles about to burst. Just as they all were.

"No reason," he had simply responded, surprised that he was being asked anything. Reno, who had overheard, piped in: "Rude's always a cool bastard, sir."

"Take me out," he said, "just for some air."

Rude had the task of guarding their President, partially at Tseng's orders, and he knew, partially of his own volition since any one of them could have walked away at any point now. Even Tseng knew that. Shinra wasn't the same company; maybe still a bit of money, maybe still a bit of power-but with its figurehead diseased and dying, he knew, the entire city it had created in shambles, even the resource that it'd made its fortune out of gone, it was their choice.

But Rude had placed his hands on Rufus's wheelchair, and they had gone out and left Reno staring at both of them like they had lost their minds. Then he had drawn away, into the opposite doorway, and slinked back. He watched Rude go, and looked down at the floor. There was something missing.

Rufus pulled back the sheet on his head; the burns had mostly healed, and Rude knew he kept it there for more strategic purposes than anything else. He had a recognizable face now, but whether or not that was a good thing was left to the man himself to decide.

Tree branches in the wind, and Rude was ready to leave him to look at the sky and stand back until he spoke.

"Did you ever spend time outside as a child, Rude?" he asked. It was unexpected. Rude faltered.

"Never mind," he had a slight smile on his face now, under the fall of blond hair and wounds, "I know curiosity is quite out of the question. Since I barely even pay you any more."

"Yes," he responded, "I'm originally from outside of Midgar."

Rufus chuckled slightly, and Rude didn't bother to turn and look at his face. "Far away?" he asked. "Same place as..."

"Not as far away as Tseng," he replied. He was loyal, not complacent.

"Of course," he responded. The amusement in his voice was still present. "And why do you not go back there now?"

Rude didn't answer; just clasped his hands behind his back and resented the wet mud that his shoes were sinking into. Then spent more time wondering if it was going to be more of a problem getting Rufus's wheelchair back inside of the lodge than it was to get it out. He ignored Rufus's questions pointedly, because it was his duty, and it was _his choice_.

He was calm and composed, but sometimes, Rude saw Rufus's hand shake under the darkened shadow that had spread there ominously, and he doubted. His faith was unlike Tseng, Reno and Elena, if he had any at all: Tseng was history, Reno was worry, Elena was blind. To him, he hadn't given it a lot of thought; it was just the way the tides of time moved him, and he was fine with that. Unless he was dissatisfied, he believed in going in the natural direction, as long as it involved a thrill. And possibly Reno.

"Why do you stay, Rude?" Rufus asked. And Rude knew, he doubted his loyalty, doubted his reasons for being there. Even in a ruined world, Rufus was still counting his cards to make sure the deck was stacked in his favor. But Rude had never been a real player in the game; he simply followed the rules that were made as long as they were fair to himself, and his partner. And that was it.

"You can't live in this world now," Rufus's voice was no longer amused, "without convictions. So tell me now, why are you here?"

"Sir," he replied, "it's getting late. What did you want out here?"

Rufus's voice stuck in his throat as he chuckled lightly, no sound of mirth in his timbre. There was a cough that sidled along it, and his hand shook, and Rude doubted. He heard a bird warble as night began to set.

"I wanted the air, Rude."

"Yes, sir."

"I want your loyalty, Rude."

"Yes, sir."

"I don't understand why you're loyal, Rude. Tell me."

"I don't know, sir."

A laugh. A raspy scratch from a dry throat waiting to close.

_"Because...that's where I am right now. That's it. And this is where I've ended up."_

"I'm here."

"Yes, you are," Rufus brought his shaking hand up to his face and brushed away his hair. The same bird warbled again, this time sounding as if it was its last call, a screech into the dusky twilight. Rude shivered.

"Just like Reno, and Tseng, and Elena," he said.

"Ah yes," Rufus latched onto the names like a hornet on top of a hot piece of metal, "them."

"Yes, sir." Rude's voice was resolute and invited no opportunity for discussion.

"Reno," he repeated the name. "You two have...a connection."

"He's my partner, sir."

"...yes," he voice was calculated, "I know."

"Loyalty," he began and his shaking hand steadied as he heard Rufus unzip his pants, "is a virtue best left up to action, and not to theory."

"Come," he said, "since you're here, and from far away, and show me why you stay."

When Rude leaned down and then found himself on his knees, he heard the warble thrice, and opened his mouth.


End file.
